[CLOSED] the ghost of what we used to be.

[thomas 'clae' claeton booker]

Clae fixed the belt on his uniform, making his way to the west wing. The flags were stored in the locker room, and he needed them for the color guard. He pushed open the door, walking to the back to look in the closet. "Hey, it's ju- you okay?" He asked, his hand on the door handle. He stood there, too afraid too approach him. But he could tell he was drunk, had spent many nights that way himself.

[ryan leonardo matson]

It was after hours, not many people should have been here, especially people who could bother him. Ryan looked up, nodding hazily and waving him away with a clumsy hand before rubbing tears from his eyes. He hadn't realized he had been crying, had been too caught up in the bottle. Too much more and he would spend the night with his head over the toilet, not that he could manage getting home at this point. Hell, dying from alcohol poisoning would be a miracle. He wiped at his lips, clutching his current bottle tight as he took another swig.

[thomas 'clae' claeton booker]

Clae walked slowly over to him, gently pulling the bottle from his hand. He sat it aside, shaking his head. His heart dropped to his stomach, knowing exactly who he was. He always had. He just tried to avoid him.

"This isn't the answer.. I don't-.. I know it's hard.. Okay? Help me carry these flags and I'll drive you home." He offered, taking his wrist gently.

[ryan leonardo matson]

Ryan pulled back, glaring brokenly up at him. With reluctance he stumbled to his feet, resting a hand against the wall to keep himself upright. "It's...myyy...answer," He snapped, opening the closet after fumbling with the door handle. He paused, crouching to pick up his badge, staring at it brokenly before his lips pulled back in a silent snarl as he threw it across the locker room.

[thomas 'clae' claeton booker]

Clae ducked, looking at him as if he were crazy. "Forget the flags. You're going home." He said, grabbing him by the arm. He pulled him out the locker room, locking the door behind them. He held him by the elbow, sure if he let him go, he would run. Or fall. He opened the door to his car and let him in, then got in his side. He checked the clock, and started towards the daycare, where he got out.

"Don't move." He told him, and disappeared inside. He came back out with a pretty little toddler in a baby blue dress, her tight black curls bouncing as she walked beside him.

"An I maked a house." She said with a thick Irish accent, almost identical to Clae's.

"Did you?" He asked, picking her up and setting her in her car seat. She nodded, mossy green eyes looking over at Ryan.

"Hi!" She said happily as Clae got her buckled in.

[ryan leonardo matson]

Ryan followed him in stubborn silence, watching where he put his feet. He was drunk often enough to figure out how to walk without completely dying. He sat down the car, staring blankly ahead. He watched him go, probably couldn't have figured out how to get his seat belt off, anyway. When the little girl spoke and waved, he managed to wave back, resting his head against the window and closing his eyes.

[thomas 'clae' claeton booker]

"Who he?" She asked, leaning over to mess with her shoe.

"A friend." He said quietly, pulling out of the parking lot. She looked over at him, then back at Clae.

"What him name, daddy?" She asked, now messing with her dress.

"Ryan."

"I Paz, Ryan." She said with a smile, leaning forward to look at him. "You sick? Daddy gon make you soup? He gon tuck you in?"

[ryan leonardo matson]

Ryan listened in silence, trying to keep up with it. He sure felt sick. Shrugging, not wishing to speak since he would stumble over his words, he managed a vague smile her way and closed his eyes in hopes of her not asking anymore questions. It hurt too much to think right now. Closing his eyes of course, did no good, gentle tears falling down his cheeks as he drew in and let out quick breaths.

[thomas 'clae' claeton booker]

"I gon sleep with you?" She asked and Clae sighed.

"Paislee. Please, I'm trying to drive. He's going home to his house. And you're going to yours and we're all gonna go to bed, okay?" He said, getting a bit agitated with her questions.

"No. Why?" She asked and he gritted his teeth.

"Paislee, hush. I'm trying to drive. You can see him another day."

"But I wanna snuggles." She complained, then crossed her arms, sticking out her bottom lip.

[ryan leonardo matson]

Ryan stirred as they continued talking. He hadn't even given him his address. Rubbing at his face again, he swallowed. Going home was okay, though. There was alcohol, pills. He shifted his weight once more. There were also nightmares and memories, walking in and finding his sister on the floor. The blood. He could still see it all behind closed eyes. They flew open and he jerked, gagged faintly.